Belligerent Rejectamenta

Forty years ago today, humanity (having decided nailing one guy to a tree wasn’t enough to send the message) dropped the ball and a coward ended the life of yet another man who had the audacity to suggest we not be miserable sons of bitches to each other.

It’s one of the darker moments in the 20th Century, from where I sit, and in my more cynical (yes, more than usual) moments, I fear for any charismatic black leader in America who starts to see their ideas get “too much” traction with the people.

Remember kids…power hates a populist.

There’s really not a lot I can say (coherently) about this.

o o o o
shakespeare rag is smartness.
im in teh street, walkens.
im in ur schedule,
measuring out ur life in teh coffee spoonz.

Many thanks (?) to the Ice Princess for sharing it.

Now I must be going…I think I hear my old thesis advisor weeping softly to himself.

Why must you tempt me with cool? I know, in my heart of hearts, that this will likely be awful, but between this and Eccleston as Destro, dammit, I’m going to have to go to the theater.

Two months, a busted replacement unit, an unnecessary video cable replacement, and a completely useless repair order tracking system later, I can return to wasting my time in the previously scheduled fashion.

Seven days away from my first decent vacation since May, a full 10 days off, and I wake up this morning to this:

I guess I won’t be getting caught up on games after all. At least I’ll get some reading done.

I hate my fucking luck (or lack thereof) some days.

Aside from the endless meetings, the office politics and bureaucracy that could only exist at a government agency, and the constant, Sword-of-Damocles spectre of the dreaded continuing resolution, I dig my day job. I write on a daily basis about insane things that less than one generation ago were the stuff of science fiction.

More importantly, I’m pretty much surrounded by geeks. Inside the chest of every rocket scientist I’ve ever met beats the heart of a huge dork, weened on Star Trek and sci-fi novels. Today, I was reminded just how random and geeky many of my coworkers really are.

Your honors, I present Exhibit A:

Excuse the crappy phone-cam quality. For those that can’t make out the text, it reads simply “CYLONS: Why Software Testing Matters“.

Off to another meeting.

Plug-in testing, take 2, commences in

3…

2…

1…

Thank you.

Will those responsible for picking up and moving the goalposts please die in a fire.

Depicted: The only reason I’m not currently on the run and wanted for murder.

James Purefoy.

Max von goddamn Sydow.

I’ve got lead shot and powder aplenty for those responsible if they fuck this up.

Drink up me hearties.